Reversed
by 502BadGateway
Summary: What if special infected zombies were survivors, and survivors were special infected zombies? Follow Slack, a smoker who turned into a human one day, struggling to escape the zombie kingdom as a survivor.


Hello! I am a girl who is a great fan of L4d and L4D2.

I don't play it myself, but I've always watched when my brother was playing it.

This is my first fanfic I ever written, so there will be a lot of mistakes.

Please tell me when you see them.

Enjoy! :)

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A group of people was marching down the abandoned street. Slowly, they dragged their scar-covered bare feet step by step. Their stained clothes were no better than a rag, being ripped and shredded in so many places. Their heads were crooked in odd angle, with their faces as pale as a corpse. However, it was clear that they were kind of alive, judging by the murderous snarls that came out from their bloodied lips. Obviously, they were not ordinary humans. They were the victims of so called "green flu", which had been plaguing the entire earth for some years now.

Growling in fury, the pack drew closer to the other end of the road, where a relatively healthy-looking lanky young man stood.

Slack could feel thousands of infected eyeballs glaring at him. Something wasn't right. Normally, common infected (or simply 'commons') would simply wander around aimlessly with blank look on their ugly faces, giving as least care as possible about everything. In fact, only few things would catch their attention this much, such as loud noises, flashlights, Boomer puke, and scent from humans. Slack knew very well that, another infected, common or special, are definitely not included in the list. Then why the hell do these dumb hobos want to shred the poor Smoker into ten million pieces?

"Oh come on! What's your flippin' problem? Seriously, do you guys think I'm one of them? Do I even _look_ like one of them?"

Trembling, Slack slowly backed away as the rabid zombie growl grew even louder. Holy crap, they never looked so intimidating before. It seems that all the commons within half a mile radius has gathered before him, all prepared to rip every organ out of his stomach in seconds. As much as he moved backwards, they were getting closer and closer to him. Well, maybe he DID look like one of them now.

"Sure, I may have lost a tumor or two as you can see. But hey I'm a Smoker, not some smelly old HUMAN! _I'm one of you!_ Here, watch!"

Desperate to get himself out of this situation, he stretched out his tongue -the only weapon he relied on- as hard as he can. But then, a painful reality stabbed him; he didn't have one anymore. Well, not the one like he had. The super-elongated-multi-purpose-extra-elastic tentacle he used to have has been reduced to something far more useless. No matter how hard he tried, retarded cry of "beh-"was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

The pack stared blankly at this pathetic sight for few minutes, until one of them simply decided to charge into him in full speed. With a rather feminine shriek, Slack started sprinting as fast as his legs can handle. He could hear the entire horde was now running right after him, roaring and screeching in pure rage. It was clear that he was not welcomed at all. He wasn't one of them anymore. He was their prey, something that should be hunted down and killed for food.

He was a human.

So, exactly how did he get himself into this bizarre trouble? To be honest, he had absolutely no idea. All he ever done was to wake up in the late afternoon, only to find himself sprawled on some random street corner instead of his hideout. At first, he thought it was one of those nasty pranks from his roommates who shared the same shelter. But then he noticed all of his bodily mutations and his coughing fit had mysteriously disappeared too. That was only the beginning of his misfortune. As soon as he stepped away from the spot, he was greeted by these livid commons now chasing him like a pack of crazy hounds. That was all he could recall.

Okay, then what about before he slept? What did he do? Is he sure that he hadn't eaten anything bad? Pretty sure. He had starved all day fighting with those dammed humans. Yes, those so-called-survivors. Now eight of them were moving together, which made him and other special infected friends' life a lot harder. He remembered how he barely managed to escape when the bloke in white suit tried to blow his head off with his 'firestick'. Oh, how painful it was when that petite brunette girl shoved an axe into his tongue! For thousandth time in his Smoker life, he nearly got burned to death by a bottle that spewed fire. Those humans were sure strong as hell. But how come he, even when he became one, is so feeble and incompete-

"Gah!"

Something long and smooth wrapped around Slack's body, knocking him down hard on the asphalt. Then, giving no chance for him to figure out where it had come from, the tongue pulled him with full force. As he was dragged helplessly on the ground, the horde chased him like a giant fish after juicy bait. Kicking and screaming, he made a mental note to himself: getting attacked is not as fun as attacking. All sorts of things smacked into him on the way, rocks, broken glasses, trash cans, dead bodies, giving him scratches and bruises all over his fragile human body. Slack barely turned his face to see where he was dragged to, just to get it smashed into a brick wall. Wham! Slack yelped in pain. Then, he felt his body being lifted up in the air. So that sonuvabiatch is on the balcony, eh? Brilliant.

There was another huge crash. The giant tsunami of commons hit the brick wall, missing the tip of Slack's shoe by millimeters. Now, he was dangling some distant away from millions of infected under him trying so hard to snatch his leg. Whoever this attacker is, he swore he would give a nice kick to one's retarded behind once he gets out of this mess.

Then, an idea sparkled in his human brain. Maybe this one would recognize him! Or, he already did and tried to save him! After all, he had fairly good social bonds with his own kinds. If he was lucky, it could even be one of his closest friends! With newfound hope, Slack struggled hard to see his attacker/savior. It was quite a hard thing to do in his current situation, but after a few trials, he could see the attacker's face. Once he met the Smoker's blazing eyes, however, Slack's jaw dropped in pure shock.

"What the...?"

It was clear that this wasn't his friend at all. In fact, he never saw any smoker looked like this one. But, he was very sure that he was familiar with him. Even if his face was now deformed with the giant tumor, Slack could see the blue baseball cap still on his head. That retard boy with the overalls! The one who tried to chainsaw his head off yesterday! What was he called? He didn't remember. But the point is, he's a flippin' survivor, not a Smoker. Hell, he's not even supposed to be a flippin' infected in the first place! He should be the one caught by his tongue, not the opposite!

JUST WHAT THE FLIP IS GOING ON HERE?

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Yes, that was Ellis turned into a Smoker.

Other characters, both infected-human and human-infected characters will appear in following chapters.

Thank you for reading this story.

If you have any other questions, please review me :)


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